When I Call Your Name
by secret.clj
Summary: Super fluffy, my first fic. I'm a sucker for sick/hurt/comfort. Peter is wounded in a bad fight, and Matt gets an unexpected chance for revenge. Spiderman/Daredevil


"...M...Matt..." Matt shot upright from a deep sleep, his super sensitive hearing picking up the low murmur from the balcony. He was already on his feet when he heard a heavy thud and shattering glass, his ears telling him the patio table had fallen as Peter tried to grab it. Peter lay on the balcony, sprawled awkwardly and groaning, pieces of glass continuing to crunch around him.  
Matt threw open the sliding door so quickly it, too, almost shattered. His sightless eyes searched in futility, as his other senses flooded his brain with information. The smell of blood, the sound of Peter's rasping lungs and uneven heart beat, the taste of the rain that was about to begin.  
"Peter!" he yelled. "What happened!?" Matt crouched down and peeled off the Spiderman mask, which was wet with blood. Peter tried to respond, but he could only release a painful moan. Matt scooped him up in his broad arms, feeling that Peter's leg was broken as it wrenched awkwardly. Peter let out a frantic cry before his head flopped back into unconsciousness.  
"Peter, Peter you need to stay with me!" cried Matt. He lay Peter on the couch and clasped both of his hands to Peter's cheeks. He snapped his fingers, trying to bring Peter around. After a few moments, Peter's eye that wasn't badly bruised, eased open, and he gripped Matt's wrist. He even managed a cheeky half-smile as he answered.  
"R...rough patrol..."  
"Who did this to you? Where are you hurt? Tell me!" Matt ran his hands over Peter's face. Split lip, bruising and swelling to the left eye, but no skull damage. His hands scanned Peter's body, easily discernable under the tight contours of the Spider suit. Cracked ribs, bruised spleen, cuts and scrapes. Nothing Peter hadn't dealt with before, but even the delicate touch of Matt's deft fingers caused him to wince.  
"Some gangster and his goons, I think he's new in town..." Peter said, trying to recall foggy details. "I heard something in an alley, thought it was just a routine mugging so I went to help." Matt ran to the bedroom to grab pillows, damp cloths, and some ice from the kitchen. He came back, resting a hand on Peter's chest to feel his heart. He wanted to feel it was safe. He wanted to feel it was still beating. Matt dabbed the blood from Peter's lip and pressed icebags to his sides. "It was a little guy in a tacky suit, and his croneys," Peter continued, gasping but able to speak. His hand clutched his side, his ribs feeling like they were under intense pressure. "A big muscley guy and some weeds with knuckle-dusters. They were harrassing this restaurant owner for protection, saying that if he didn't start paying then his business...his wife and kids...would be the first to feel the pain. I went down there, and managed to take out the guys with the brass, but one of the kids ran out to see...to see his dad...he was young...crying...his dad tried to get him to go back inside but he wouldn't. So they went after the kid. I couldn't...Matt-I know-I couldn't let him," tears made Peter's voice crack even more, and he shuddered. Matt reached up and carressed Peter's face.  
"Shh, take it easy...what happened?"  
"The muscle moved in and I got in between them. He was fucking huge. The boss had already fled...coward...the muscle was easy to deal with at first, but he was quicker than I thought...he got me by my leg and...and...I think he hurled me against the fire escape. Then he just went to town. I only managed to get away when the guy heard sirens. I had to get halfway across town by web alone...I can't stand...I think...I think I heard a snap and-and I..." Peter trailed off, pain and, Matt detected, a hint of anger, in his voice. Matt braced himself for what was about to happen. He held Peter's hand, and felt it sweat.  
"Peter," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have to take a look."  
Peter grimaced, but couldn't resist smirking. "A look, hm?" he let out a laugh that meant to sound cheeky, but came out hollow.  
"I'm serious. I need you to take a deep breath."  
Peter closed his eyes. He took a few shallow breaths to test the pain in his ribs. When he managed to get a better rhythm in his breath, he opened his eyes. Matt knelt next to the couch, staring straight ahead and slightly up, his pale eyes gleaming in the darkness. His brow was furrowed, and Peter could see he was upset, although he was trying to hide it. He was shirtless, just in his fine silk pajama pants. Peter squeezed his side with one hand and Matt's hand with the other. He took a slow, deep breath. Thunder and lightning began brewing outside.  
"Go," he whispered.  
Matt placed his right hand, the one Peter wasn't desperately clinging to, and made his way down Peter's left leg. He passed the knee, and began to feel blood pulsing to the area. As carefully as he could, he removed Peter's boot. Peter bit his lip, already crying, but trying to be silent so Matt could concentrate. Matt used both hands to peel up the leg of Peter's suit. He could feel Peter shaking. When the suit was rolled up, Matt placed his hands on Peter's shin, barely touching the surface of Peter's tanned skin.  
Peter let out a terrible scream, and lurched forward, which only made him cry more. It made Matt's head ring, but he had recieved the information he needed through his hands. Bad fracture, almost a complete split, in the middle of Peter's shin bone. The sound of Peter screaming echoed through his body, and the waves that bounced off his leg shaped the image in Matt's mind. The swelling was huge and, although he couldn't see it, it was a sore looking purple and red colour.  
Matt threw his arms around Peter's neck and tried to calm him, but Peter continued to sob. Lightning flashed outside and heavy rain bounced off the shattered patio table and windows of the penthouse.  
"Peter, I'm taking you to the hospital."  
"No!" Peter screamed. "No hospital."  
"Yes!" Matt urged angrily. "Why be a wealthy laywer if I can't afford to pay for the best medical care money can buy?!"  
"Just...no!" Peter was angry now. "I can't make Aunt May worry, they'll call her as soon as I'm checked in. She has enough to deal with without worrying about me. I'm supposed to be here while I focus on college, she'll wonder what happened and ask too many questions. Questions you know neither of us can answer. She won't see me until Christmas break and I'll be fine by then. Please, Matt. Please."  
Matt sighed and closed his eyes. Peter's devotion to those he loved was part of the reason Matt adored him so much, but his stubborness was trying. He listened to the rain and Peter's heart. It sounded like a beautiful symphony. Matt lay Peter back onto a pillow, and, carefully but not without causing more pain, slid one under Peter's leg. Matt searched the bathroom cabinet for first aid supplies, but apart from a few bandaids, they were all out. Matt leant against the bathroom counter, and weighed his options. He could insist on taking Peter in, but he knew what that would do to him and Aunt May. Financially he could help. Emotionally, he could not. Matt sighed heavily, and went back out to the living room. He was resigned.  
"Fine. No hospital. I will be back in five minutes. Do not move."  
Peter let out a pained chuckle. "Okay. I won't."  
Matt threw on some clothes and a jacket. He grabbed his white cane and red tinted glasses. He gave Peter a kiss, as Peter lay back, allowing his head to grow heavy. "Peter?" he said.  
"Hm?" Peter barely made a sound. He was fading into exhaustion.  
"I...never should have let you patrol alone. I will find who did this to you and make them pay."  
"Mm." Peter was almost completely asleep.  
"Peter. I love you."  
"...please bring back ice cream."  
Matt couldn't help but smile. He placed a blanket over his lover, and ran to the door. He slipped out quietly, and prayed that five minutes would be all he needed.

Matt raced through the night, swinging his cane wildly to search for obstacles. The rain was beginning to fade but he was still soaked though. He ran into the 24 hour pharmacy, and practically slammed into the elderly shop keeper as she stocked a shelf. He was panting and damp. Without thinking, he grabbed the woman by the shoulders. Normally his blindness didn't affect his independence, and he would shop on his own, but he was in a hurry.  
"Please, please I need your help, I need to find some things," he said, trying to maintain his composure. It was a struggle.  
"Of course, dear," said the tiny woman, taking his arm and patting it. She had a sweet smell, like tea and cake. Matt felt calmer, and allowed the woman to sit him down on her little stool behind the cash counter. "What do you need, and I'll get it all for you, quick as a flash!" she had a spry, chipper voice, and Matt was certain she must have winked.  
"Thank you. I need gauze and bandages, dissinfectant, painkillers, and as many ice bags as you have. Do you have leg splints here? And crutches?"  
"Why, yes," said the lady. She began placing things on the counter as she repeated back to Matt the things he needed. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked carefully. "Are these for you, are you hurt?"  
"No," said Matt.  
"Oh." the lady said softly. She patted Matt's hand. "Someone you care about." Matt nodded, and leaned on the counter and rubbed his forehead. Tears welled in his eyes, and he was glad his dark glasses obscured them from the shop keeper. But he could sense a gentle, understanding smile in her voice. "Don't worry. I'm sure they'll be fine. I'll just pop back to the store room for the crutches."  
"Thank you," said Matt, regaining his composed demeanor. The shop keeper walked away, leaving Matt alone in the store. He sat for a moment, tense, and then remembered.  
Ice cream.  
"Good thing I love you," he muttered under his breath.  
He stood up and made his way to the freezer aisle, feeling the cooler temperatures. He made his way along, reaching into each compartment to run his fingers over the cold, subtle markings of the ice cream packages. Finally, his frozen fingertips grazed the words "chocolate fudge" imprinted on the cardboard container. Matt pulled out his find and began walking back to the counter. As he rounded the corner of the aisle, he tapped his cane on the floor, and felt the heavy prescence of four men. He heard the click of a gun being cocked, and smelled the over-powering stench of cigarettes. Matt stopped. He dropped to the floor, pressing his hand against the tile, and felt his radar sense take over almost completely.  
Four men, one of them very large, were standing at the cash register. One was holding a gun, aimed at the shop keeper. Her voice was trembling very faintly. The man with the gun stepped forward whilst the two skinny men cracked their knuckles. The big man stood completely still.  
"Come on, honey bunch, just open the till and we'll be on our way," said the gunman, his voice sickeningly sweet. "I don't want to hurt you, I really don't, but my friends here...well...they might need convincing. So how about you give us all your money now, and we'll come back later tomorrow to get the rest. You do that, and we'll make sure no one bothers you."  
"I...I don't have money to give you," stammered the woman.  
"Now see, that's a problem, because we're offering a service. And we need to be paid," the man his voice lowering, becoming more threatening. He took another step closer. The shop keeper whimpered, but took a deep breath.  
"No..." she murmured but her voice was steady. "No. I won't be bullied by the likes of you scum."  
"Too bad, grammy," the man laughed. "We really wanted to leave you alone, you seem sweet, but we don't work for free." He gestured at the giant man, who growled and stepped forward. Matt knew he had to act quickly. He picked up the ice cream from the floor, and turned the corner, tapping his cane. He walked directly into the big muscley man's back, and made a great show of fumbling with the ice cream.  
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said politely, acting the part with ease. "Sorry. Didn't see you there!"  
The men all turned and stared at him. He grinned. The woman pressed her hands to her mouth.  
"Haha, sorry, bad joke!" Matt laughed. "Say, do you think you could do me a favour, sir...I seem to have dropped my purchase...did it roll over there?" Here, Matt got on his hands and knees and patted the floor. He knew exactly where the carton fell. It had rolled between the gunman's feet.  
"Hey, piss off, asshole!" sneered one of the scrawny men.  
"Whoa, sorry!" said Matt, hurt. "Just thought you could help a blind guy out!" "I said, piss off!" The scrawny man grabbed Matt's collar and tossed him aside. Matt made a great show of losing his cane, and reaching out into the air in faux desperation.  
"Hey...hey guys, please. I don't want any trouble...but please...my cane..." He went to reach for it again, knowing what would happen. Sure enough, he was grabbed by his collar and pinned against the shelves. He pretended to panic, gasping, while his amazing senses prepared him for his battle plan. The scrawny guy who grabbed him laughed, and went for a swift punch. Matt, or more accurately, Daredevil grabbed his fist and twisted the assailant's arm until the man screamed in pain and relented. Daredevil picked up his cane and split it open into his billy club. He whirled them with a deadly accuracy and took out both the skinny men with ease before they had even realized what was happening.  
"Call 911," he said calmly to the shop keeper. She grabbed the phone and ducked under the counter. The boss fired his gun, quickly emptying the magazine, as Daredevil leapt on top of the stock shelves, avoiding the bullets completely. He jumped and grabbed the hanging flourescent light, and pulled with all his weight. It came crashing down in a shower of sparks, and while his opponent was cowering from the light, Daredevil swung the wreckage around and hurled it, sending the gunman crashing into a wall.  
The large man, towering over Daredevil, said nothing. He merely growled and lunged towards him. Daredevil dodged, but Peter was right. The big guy was extremely fast for his size, and barely missed. Daredevil's sense of smell was overpowered by heavy cigarette smoke, and the sound of the electric light shattering had disoriented him. He ran down the aisle, casting stuff from the shelves behind him, trying to make obstacles, but the giant man crushed the cereal boxes and leapt over the magazine wrack like it was nothing. Soon, Daredevil was cornered by the freezer again. The muscled behemoth was rapidly approaching. Daredevil flung the freezer open and grabbed a carton of ice cream and hurled it as fast as possible. He struck his target right between the eyes. The ice cream was solid and heavy, and caused the man to stagger. Daredevil leapt forward and took advantage of the slower speed, and delivered several swift kicks and punches to vulnerable areas. The man fell backwards, beaten and bruised, and held up a hand in front of his face as Daredevil raised his fist.  
"STOP!" he yelled. "Yo, stop, I won't tell no one!"  
Daredevil grabbed the man's shirt, and pulled him in close. He whispered in his ear. His voice was quiet but as cool and as sharp as steel. "You're right. You won't tell anyone. Because if you do, I will know. I will find you, and I will waste you. If you ever get out of whatever rotten hole you find yourself festering in, and try to find me, or this shop, or Spiderman, I will make you sorry I didn't kill you right here."  
"Spiderman?" said the man incredulously. His body tensed, and Daredevil could feel his terror. Daredevil grabbed the carton of ice cream that had hit the man between the eyes. It was still a sold brick of frozen sugar and chocolate.  
"Yes. Spiderman. You broke my boyfriend's leg, and now I'm going to break your fucking nose."  
Daredevil slammed the ice cream into the cowering man's face, and felt and heard the crunch of cartilage compounding into bone. The huge man screamed loudly before slumping into a heap on the ground. Daredevil gave him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure, and made his way to the counter.  
The woman stood, trembling. Matt held up his hands. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."  
"I know. I-thank you," she said, her voice quivering.  
"...Uh...look...I'm guessing it's pretty bad in here so...here..." Matt pulled out his wallet and emptied its contents.  
"Sir, I can't take your money! You saved my life!" the woman started, but Matt put up his hand.  
"Please," he insisted, "I want to pay for the damages. Ma'am. Take it. It's non-negotiable. If you need more, you contact this number, okay?" He felt for the braille indicating his business card, and gave it to her. He had a keen sense for character, and felt he could trust her. It was not often he gave away his secret, but his sense of duty was as honed as all of his others.  
"...Matthew...Murdock? The lawyer?" she whispered slowly.  
"Yes," said Matt. "I just...I don't normally tell anyone...we value our privacy but I can't leave it like this. Please, I-" The woman grabbed his hand, her small hands surprisingly soft.  
"The cameras here don't work. I won't tell a soul."  
Matt smiled and nodded. Sirens were approaching rapidly. Matt gathered his large shopping bag full of things, and began to leave. He felt a tap on his shoulder, heard a rustle, and smelled chocolate and vanilla and cardboard as the woman stuffed three cartons of ice cream into the bag.  
"Ice cream is on the house. Forever," she whispered. Matt smiled, and walked away quickly. The smell of her sweet tea and jangle of her plastic pearl necklace followed him all the way home.

Matt rushed upstairs, hoping Peter was still okay. He had, obviously, taken longer than expected. He threw open the door and tapped his cane for the radar.  
Peter was leaning on the arm of the couch, wobbling. Matt ran forward to catch him as he lost his balance. He had taken off his suit, which lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. It had obviously taken a lot of effort, his skin was clammy and his blood pressure was weaker than normal.  
"Peter what are you doing?" Matt picked him up and placed him back on the couch. Matt was taller and broader than Peter, who seemed at this moment to weigh nothing. Peter was sweating.  
"I was worried!" he panted. Matt brought over the bag and found a large compression bandage. He began wrapping it around Peter's lean torso to support his ribs. "I'm sorry, I...uh...got lost."  
"You, got lost?"  
"Yes."  
"Matt."  
"I am blind, it happens all the time."  
"It never happens. And you have blood on your shirt."  
Matt was silent. Peter looked at him, and despite the pain in his arms, reached up to remove the red tinted glasses. Matt's handsome face wore that contemplative, concerned look he got whenever he was upset with dignity. His pale blue eyes were half-closed as he stared into nothingness, his head tilted back slightly as his hands and ears did the work. Peter shuddered from sweat, pain, and from the idea that Matt had risked his life for him.  
"Matt, I-"  
"Peter," Matt was quiet and stern. As usual. "I don't have a family. I only have you. And someone hurt you. And I couldn't let them get away with it. I shouldn't have let you go alone, but I did. Because I trust you and you're amazing and I know you can handle yourself. But when you came back...and I heard you calling my name...I thought...I thought you were dying. I can't. I can't lose you." Matt spoke softly, but his voice was filled with powerful intensity. It wavered ever so slightly. Peter said nothing.  
Matt finished wrapping his torso, and Peter applied his own antiseptic and bandages to his many cuts while Matt prepared to set Peter's swollen leg. It had been over an hour since it had been fractured, and Matt could tell every slight movement was causing Peter significant pain. He handed Peter a pillow.  
"I'm going to set this now. Scream into the pillow." Peter merely nodded. He was clearly losing strength both physically and emotionally. Matt placed the plastic splints on either side of the break, and began wrapping it with a tight, clean bandage. At first it seemed it was not so bad, but soon Peter was crying unashamedly into the pillow, screaming and biting. Matt thought about how Peter was still so young. He had been through so much in his life and the fact that he could still show his emotion without fear was something Matt admired, envied, and loved. When Matt was done, he carried Peter to the bedroom and lay him on the bed, his leg wrapped in clean, soft, white bandages. Mounted on several cushy pillows and a few ice packs for good measure, Peter's leg looked, at least for the time being, comfortable. Matt covered his ehxausted, shivering frame with a plush blanket and held him while he cried. Peter had not said anything. He just lay in Matt's lap, eyes closed, with tears flowing out the sides and down his bruised cheeks into pools in his ears. Soon he was asleep, and Matt kissed him. He got his own blanket and went to the couch, so that Peter could get some rest. Matt was more tired than he knew, and despite his best efforts to stay awake and vigilant in case Peter needed something, he fell asleep within minutes.

"Matt!"  
Matt leapt up, feeling the heat of the sun through the glass windows. He ran through the house before he had even let his senses register where Peter was. But he heard Peter snickering from the kitchen. He ran in, panicked, and reached out to feel Peter.  
"Are you alright? What do you need?"  
Peter was resting on his crutches at the breakfast counter. He was still sore and exhausted but was never one to lay in bed all day. Matt helped him hobble to the bar chair.  
"You left the ice cream out last night!" Peter reprimanded. "It's all melted on the hardwood."  
"Oh. Right. Sorry," said Matt, as he gave Peter some water. "For what it's worth, we get free ice cream at the pharmacy on 12th for the rest of our lives."  
Peter raised the eyebrow above his good eye. "Does this have something to do with the blood on your shirt from last night?"  
"No."  
"Yes?"  
"...maybe." Peter went to sigh but it made him wince. Matt felt him all over to check, but Peter grabbed his hand. Matt could sense his sudden seriousness.  
"Matt. What you said last night. Thank you. For protecting me. But frankly, I am glad this happened to me, because it means it didn't happen to that kid. Or to you. You're my whole world, Matt, and I don't want to lose you either. I know I still have a lot to learn but please...don't risk yourself protecting me. I love you."  
Matt traced the contour of Peter's face until he found his lips. He leaned down and gave him a gentle but passionate kiss. Peter shuddered. Perhaps it was part pain, part love, but Matt didn't care. Knowing that Peter was okay, and that despite his injuries he was still being brave and noble, was enough for Matt. He knew he would protect Peter forever. And that Peter would protect him.  
Matt pulled his lips away. He smiled. "I can taste the ice cream on your lips. It didn't melt. You ate it all already. While I was asleep. I must have been very tired I don't sleep through much."  
Peter made an irritated sound. "Damn it."  
"There were three whole cartons."  
"I need the sugar to recover!" Peter protested, but he knew it was futile. He rested his head on Matt's chest, and listened to his heart beat. The heart that beat just for him. The heart that would stop for him.  
"Matt?" Peter said softly.  
"Yes, my love?" said Matt.  
"Thank you."  
"For what?" "  
For always coming when I call your name."


End file.
